Something Wicked
by Arwen Thandiel
Summary: Siren barely knew the Lilly and James. Nothing more than stuck up, pretentious Gryffendors as far as she was concerned. But a letter, many years later, changes everything she thought she knew about her life, theirs and even magic itself. But what happens when what you believe in and what you love are on different sides of the same war?
1. Preface

Preface:

When the Bough Breaks

When I heard the news, I could barely breath. Parchment crumbled in my hands like so much sand and the distant scream echoing in my mind, I could not tell from whence it came. Was that me? Or was that the sound of my reality being torn apart, like screeching metal when something that should not be broken is laid to waste.

The missive was simple.

 _Your son lives._

 _~S_

I knew, with every fiber of my being that the declaration before me was true.

The trouble was…

I have no son.


	2. Chapter 2

2\. Chapter 1

The Cradle Will Fall

A son…

The notion is terrifying, and not because I don't want to have children but because of the depth and breadth of magic and betrayal necessary to conceal something like that from me. Trying to wrap my mind around it is like staring at an optical illusion. Every time I focus on one piece of the puzzle, the others began to blur and lose their shape.

I knew something like this was possible. _Obliviate_ is a powerful spell in the right or wrong hands. But who would do this to me? WHY?

My head is spinning and more than once Eggy, my belligerent house elf, has popped into the room, kick me in the back of the knee and slipped a chair beneath me as I fall.

He's not one much for diplomacy…or manners, really, but he's effective and, I assume, his heart is in the right place. You never know with house elves. Sometimes their hearts grow in odd places in their strange little bodies.

I can only imagine how I must seem to him, right now. Staring down at my body, wondering how we missed this. Who's the father? What happened to him?

Every time a new question arises, my heart rate jumps a little bit more and I find myself near panic. That's usually when Eggy ninja kicks me and tells me to, and I quote:

"Sit ya arse down before ye pop'a vein. Hogwarts wasn built inna day, ye daft pup."

Translation: "Darling, sit down and rest. Answers will come in time."

I've gotten good at translating EggSpeak over the years. Though I'm pretty sure the accent is fake. It doesn't even make sense. Half the time he sounds Scottish, but other times…I don't even know.

A son.

I have a son.

I am a 32-year-old, single, Hogwarts graduate with a son of untold age. I won't even try to speak to the irony that I am also a security consultant for the American wizarding rich a famous.

"Holy fuckbats…If this gets out my street-cred is toast."

The ridiculousness of that comment notwithstanding, it does bring up an interesting point. Someone has beaten me at my own game.

And now it's time to find out who.

Speaking of who, who the fuck is "S"?

Six phone calls, 9 emails, 57 text messages, two burner phones and 4 Howlers later, I'm no closer to figuring out what the hell is going on. All I can say is, my magic is screaming at me to find my baby. I've never experienced anything quite like this full-on rebellion of my core magic. Basic spells are going haywire, accidental magic has burnt out three pairs of headphones (which is seriously pissing me off) and I feel like I'm a little kid again.

I'm running out of people I can ask hypothetical questions to ask people without becoming conspicuous and I'm quickly concluding that I'm going to have to go back…there.

Guh.

I haven't been back to Hogwarts since I graduated and I never had any intention of doing so. But the experts of our world all appear to be in wizarding Brittan and despite my absolute distaste for their complete sham of an infrastructure, beggars cannot be choosers.

Eggy's been particularly somber today and I'm not sure what's eating at him.

Aaand, I'm gonna set that pun down right there.

"Eggs. What's the deal? You seem pretty…scrambled lately."

Eggy has a vicious side-eye. Cuts glass, he does.

"Yenot funny, pup."

Sheesh. Tough crowd.

"I'm just preparing for when I getta kell the frail bastard tha stole ya cub."

Exactly what kind of animal does he think I am?

"Yeah, homicide seems like the right move. Not something I typically endorse as a private citizen but sometimes you just have to make a decisive move."

He lets me get away with that one. Egg's known me long enough to know that blithe sarcasm is my way of coping with things too big to feel real emotions for. At least, all at once.

"I hate Dumbledore."

I'm intensely proud that Egg and I said that together. Without practice this time.

"Okay, Egg. I need a plane ticket."

"Why not justake a port key, pup?"

If I bark…will he stab me? Best not to test it, for now.

"Cuz I like it when TSA cops a feel."

He rolls his tennis ball eyes and shambles off toward the kitchen. Eggzombie

Hey! _Snacks_!

I trot after him.

Neither of us mentions how much I hate port keys or how the last time I used one I almost died. And not the fun kind.

"Egg! I want Gushers."

"They giveya heartburn, ya selly old fae."

"I'm not old Egg. And it's not heartburn, it's the passion of the thousand fire suns…that I have for Gushers. So gimme."

"I'll light ya on fire if y'ask again."

"That escalated quickly."

His snort is the last thing I hear before he LOCKS the door in my face. Seriously, it's MY house. And since when has there been a lock on the door to the kitchen?

Something tells me I'm not in charge anymore.

12 hours later, I'm at LAX about to begin my journey to Heathrow. Egg has gone on ahead to handle room reservations and really, to give me some time to think.

There are only a handful of old classmates that I still have occasional contact with. Even fewer that have names starting with S. Two, to be exact.

Severus Snape (More Scrabble points for so many S's)

Sirius Black (Less Scrabble points for being in prison)

The methods through which Sirius and I have contact are not for public disclosure and my communication with Severus is limited to notes exchanged with one another amounting to: "Nice article." "I know." and "Well done on that grant." "I suppose."

Honestly, we'd rule on Twitter. Always under 140 characters.

Since visiting Sirius is out, for now, I'm left with having a face-to-face conversation with Severus, which makes the introvert in my want to punch a chicken in protest. (Note: Don't try that at home. It's mean.)

It's not Severus I have an issue with. He's quite refreshing for someone in my line of work. It's Dumbledore. I can't stand that manipulative, condescending, participation trophy giver. He's a snake in lion's clothing, as far as I'm concerned. But he's got nothing to do with what I need to know. At least, he better not.

After the near war, Voldemort (stupid name) and what I have dubbed The Great Pureblood Clusterfuck, I'd decided that the U.S. was the place for me. Not a hard decision to make as a native Californian. Honestly, I couldn't get back to the sunshine and liberal vs. conservative propaganda fast enough. The day I got my Hogwarts letter, I cried.

An old family like mine put a great deal of stock in the school I attended and Ilvermorny was just not good enough, according to them. I can still taste my resentment. Leaving behind my friends, my culture, my freedom. I'd not been a very contentious child until that point. Let's just say, my parents got more than they bargained for.

As international flights go, this one's nothing to phone home about. First class isn't all it's cracked up to be but it's good enough. As a mental exercise, I typically read SkyMall and convert all their contraptions to spells, potions, and other wizarding trickery. Some are easy enough but that globe full of booze gets me every time. How can you improve on that?

Ya can't…Which is why I own three.

I've forgone telling Severus I'm coming. He loves surprises. It'll go over really well. I'm sure of it.

There's just one little detail that I neglected to attend to until the landing notice rang out over the speakers. School is in session.

Gross.


End file.
